


Older Love

by GiggleSnortBangDead



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 20:06:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiggleSnortBangDead/pseuds/GiggleSnortBangDead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Then again, he assumed there was only so many ways one could end up with their legs above their head, laid back across the counter of a bar, with Peter Hale slowly brushing kisses to their left ankle at two in the morning in the early summer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Older Love

While, yes, Stiles knew how he got here (it wasn’t as if he blacked out and then magically appeared in this position), he didn’t _really_ know how he got here. It was a mystery to him how, exactly, one could live their life as he did, and go through their normal routine, and still end up like this. What had he done, what small actions had added up, that led him here? How did this happen?

Then again, he assumed there was only so many ways one could end up with their legs above their head, laid back across the counter of a bar, with Peter Hale slowly brushing kisses to their left ankle at two in the morning in the early summer.

Stiles had gone into The Jungle on a whim. Scott was with Allison, _of course_. Lydia was in Europe. Isaac was working the night shift at wherever it was he was working now. Derek was at home, brooding and probably sublimating through even more exercise ( _quick! somebody buy that guy a beer! and some psychoanalytic therapy!_ ). Even Danny, who Stiles had thought he might run into, was AWOL.

Regardless, he had grabbed his fake ID, put on something nice (or nice-ish), and driven down. And, that was when something he never thought could possibly ever happen happened.

See, he’d heard from Isaac that Peter had gotten a job as a bartender somewhere. It was a little odd, Stiles thought, that Isaac had left out the detail that it was at the gay bar he sometimes snuck into. 

The moment Stiles saw him, he was ready to turn on his heel and run for the hills. However, Peter looked up an saw him. And if that wasn’t enough - if the humiliating reality of Peter _knowing_ that Stiles had come to The Jungle wasn’t enough to satisfy the universe that was obviously out to get Stiles Stilinski - the smug bastard waved. Stiles found himself making his way over to the bar.

“Stiles,” he had said, “What a lovely surprise. Last place I thought I’d see _you_.” 

“Can’t say I feel much different. I thought bartenders at gay clubs had to be hot, young guys in tank tops.”

“Well, I can’t say anything about young or my own apparel, but, when you’ve been on fire as much as I have, I think you’re allowed to formally declare yourself as ‘hot.’” And he smiled, a sticky-sweet twist of the lips which really just highlighted how _not_ funny that was.

“Really, though, Stiles, what are you doing here?” The man seemed a little more serious. “This doesn’t seem like the place for you.”

“I could be gay.” Stiles said, a little defensively.

Peter smirked. “I mean you’re under-age.”

“Oh.” Stiles said, his whole face heating up. “Oh my God. Wow. Are you gonna kick me out?”

Peter pretended to consider it and then declared, “No, I suppose not.”

Stiles perked up. “Great, then, can I have a beer?”

And Peter, the bastard, laughed at him. “No, you can not, Stiles. I’ll get you a coke.”

So, Stiles spent the night talking to Peter, which was beyond weird. There weren’t many people there that night. Peter had told Stiles there was some sort of event - a concert or be-in or bible group (Stiles hadn’t really committed it to memory) - that had taken the fun-loving, gay crowd out of the club and put them elsewhere. Despite how dead it was, Stile had stayed until closing.

“Shouldn’t you go home? Won’t you father be worried?” Peter asked, as he wiped down the counter. He made a small gesture to another employee as he left, leaving Stiles and Peter alone as he closed up.

“Nah,” Stiles shook his head. “He got called in to work late and he’ll probably sleep in the office so he can get right to work in the morning. New case or something.”

“Oh? Anything interesting?” Peter asked.

Stiles shrugged. “Dunno. Me and Scott woulda been all over this a year ago but... You know, _Allison_.”

“Yes, young love can be all-consuming.”

“Is older love any better?” Stiles asked, genuinely curious.

Peter grinned. “It can be.”

“Sounds nice.” Stiles sighed. And when his eyes flickered up, he saw that Peter had paused and was staring at him, as if trying to figure it all out. He licked his lips and watched Peter Hale’s eyes follow the movement and the mimic it with his own mouth. Meeting the boy’s eyes, Peter flat out smiled at him. He placed his hands on the counter and leaned forward.

“Doesn’t it?” he asked, his voice low, only for Stiles, but seemingly loud in the quiet of the club. Stiles swallowed hard, unable to look away. He could hardly remember what they had been talking about, as he parted his lips ever so slightly.

Peter reached across the counter and placed his hand under the boy’s chin. His thumb brushed just under his bottom lip, always teasing but never daring to swipe across the pink open softness or, better yet, dip inside to see just how warm it was.

“Do you want to kiss me?” Stiles asked, and it felt like a stupid question, must have sounded so young and childish to the man behind the counter. But, Peter nodded.

“If that would be acceptable to you.” he said. 

Stiles nodded slightly, not wanting to dislodge Peter’s hand. “Yes. That sounds acceptable.” But the last word was hushed, as Peter bent forward, over the counter, and brushed one kiss onto Stiles’s open mouth. Before he could pull back, Stiles stood and reached forward to lace his fingers into Peter’s hair, moving towards the man so he wouldn’t be at such an awkward angle and kissing his back. 

The way Peter kissed him held something soft and unhurried. It was as if nothing could make him happier than kissing Stiles all morning. It was light and unobtrusive until Stiles opened his mouth even more for the man, who gracefully began to run his tongue over the boy’s. Stiles was struck by the thought that, of course, Peter Hale could stick his tongue into someone’s mouth gracefully. 

As Peter sucked on his tongue, making Stiles moan into his mouth way too loudly for it to be anything but embarrassing, he shifted his hand, so they were more pulling at the back of Stiles’s neck. He urged him forward until he was nearly bent in half over the bar, leaning forward towards Peter at an uncomfortable angle. Peter broke away and helped Stiles clamor over the counter, which Stiles tried to do with some poise but ended up flailing through in his rush to get over. 

Kissing him again, Peter’s hands found the hem of Stiles’s shirt and slowly worked their way under. One hand dipped down his back to grope his ass while the other came up to his chest to flick over the boy’s nipple.

Stiles groaned with a new sense of urgency. Peter broke away form his mouth and started to attack his neck. He pressed the boy against the bar, rubbing himself all up the front of him. Stiles’s breath hitched when Peter bit down a little too hard and started to suck an apology onto his skin.

Hooking his hands under the boy’s ass, Peter lifted him up onto the counter, only breaking away from his neck long enough to push him back, so he was propping himself up with his elbows. Peter started to tug at Stiles’s jeans, ripping off the button instead of undoing it. 

Stiles was about to protest when Peter left his neck and brought his mouth to the triangle of pale skin exposed by unzipping the boy’s pants. One hand stayed on the boy’s chest, keeping him from fulling sitting up, as he kissed him just inches above where Stiles really wanted to be kissed. Peter resurfaced after licking a strip up Stiles’s stomach where his shirt had been rucked up. In one swift, sinfully fluid motion, he pulled down Stiles boxers and jeans. 

If Stiles hadn’t felt flushed and overheated before this, being so naked with Peter pushed him over that edge. 

Quite suddenly, Peter pulled one leg up to wrap around his waist and brushed over the rim of the boy’s hole with his thumb. Stiles couldn’t keep himself from gasping.

“Ever touch yourself here before?”Peter asked, and damn him if he didn’t sound calm, untouched by any sort of excitement. It was only looking up at Peter’s lust-blown eyes that showed Stiles just how affected he was. Not trusting his voice, Stiles shook his head. Peter hummed thoughtfully, nudging the tip of his thumb into Stiles.

“Do you-” Stiles panted, then stopped himself. “I mean, have you got any-” He cut himself off again but this time it solely had to do with Peter swiping his forefinger over him.

Peter, one hand still holding his leg around his waist, moved his other hand below the bar and fumbled around for a moment. He apparently found what he was looking for and Stiles heard the surprisingly loud _click_.

“Of course,” the boy laughed, though it was a hushed and breathless noise. “You do this often.”

“Can’t say I do.” Peter admitted, bringing his other hand away from where he had been lightly touching Stiles and pouring a generous amount of lube over his fingers. “But I am nothing if not optimistic.” 

“Looking for any jailbait losers with low standards and even lower inhibitions?”

Peter grinned and ran one wet finger over the boy’s crack as his other hand came down to hoist the boy’s leg over his shoulder. Stiles gasped, being held up only by Peter’s strength and the bar under his back.

“Maybe I was waiting for you.” Peter said, and in a much smoother and paced motion, he brought Stiles’s leg around his waist up to his shoulder as well.

Stiles scoffed, though the gesture seemed funny with his legs above his head and Peter Hale between them. “Bet you say that to all the boys.”

“No, just you.” Peter said offhandedly, pushing his first finger in slowly, causing Stiles to hold his breath. “You’re the only boy.”

He started to move the one finger around, feeling all around the inside of Stiles. He slowly added a second and his free hand came up to hold on of Stiles’s leg in place. Scissoring him, Peter began to search for something.

Stiles would have been lying if he said he didn’t know what Peter seemed to be looking for. However, for all the depraved and indecent things he had seen, Stiles had never expected his first time to be like this. He hadn’t expected it to be on a bar counter or at some ungodly hour in the morning. He had really figured he would have at least had his shirt off. Of course, it wasn’t necessary, but there was something almost unbearably slutty to being naked only from the waist down with another, fully clothed person. And he certainly hadn’t figured it would be Peter Hale, no matter how many wank fantasies the man might have starred in. 

Peter fingered over the spot and Stiles _keened_. He canted his hips up, thrusting into the air, at the same time trying to get the man to do it agin.

“Perfect.” Peter murmured, adding a third finger and petting over the spot, opening him up.

Stiles couldn’t do anything but writhe and moan and whine. He clutched the edge of the bar, unsure of what to do with his hands, needing them occupied. Peter just kept rubbing that spot inside of him, _massaging_ it, and Stiles didn’t quite know how to cope. He wanted to sob, to scream at Peter to fuck him. He was ready; he was so ready for Peter. Instead, he simply whined out a, “Please.”

“Please, what?” Peter prompted.

“Please,” and Stiles breath hitched here as Peter swiped over that spot again, “Fuck me. I need you.”

Stiles, had he been able to really put a thought together, would have expected that saying this would have made Peter smug, self-satisfied. Instead, the man looked raw suddenly and just as need-filled as Stiles.

“Of course.” Peter murmured. He made quick work of unbuckling and unzipping his pants and pulling his cock out. He grabbed the lube and lathered up his dick. After surveying the flushed, panting boy below him, he leaned forward to kiss Stiles lightly, almost tenderly, on the mouth. As he did this, Peter slowly began to push in. Stiles kissed him back until he couldn’t take it any longer and broke away to gasp at the sensation of being filled up and pushed apart and _taken_.

When Peter was all the way in, he gave his hips one little rock forward. Stiles groaned and clutched at the edge of the bar tighter. Peter seemed to wait after that, panting, draping himself over the boy, bending him in half.

Finally, Stiles grit out, “Goddamn it. Move.”

Not needing to be told twice, Peter straightened up and began very slowly, never forcing anything, to fuck into the boy. One hand was placed on Stiles’s hip, keeping him in place, while the other rested on his leg, straightening it up. Still thrusting forward, he peppered the Stiles’s ankle with little brushed of his lips. 

The sounds coming from Stiles mouth were hushed, little murmurs of pleasure as he was stretched and filled repeatedly. He brought one hand up from the counter and placed it on his own cock, beginning to stroke himself in time with Peter. He tried to keep from moaning because, in the silence of the club, it seemed too wickedly loud.

Growling a little, Peter brought his hand down to the boy’s other hip and pushed in particularly hard and, suddenly, Stiles’s no-moaning rule went straight out the window. Especially when Peter changed his angle, leaning forward again, spreading and bending Stiles even more, to hit against the boy’s prostate. 

“Ohmygod, there, there, there,” Stiles urged. Peter grinned and aimed there there there over and over until Stiles couldn’t really think or say or feel anything except _Peter_.

“You’re doing so well, Stiles.” Peter hummed, slamming in hard and fast. “So good, so tight. _Mine_.” And he wrapped one of his hands around Stiles’s fingers and the boy’s cock and helped him pump.

At this point, Stiles decided fuck it. He was _his_. And he came all over their hands.

Peter smiled and praised him, told him how close he was and latched his teen onto Stiles’s neck, biting down hard, before coming hard inside of the boy. He rode out his orgasm with a few shallow thrusts, listening to the little pain-pleasured whines coming from his boy.

The motion stopped, and they rested for a moment before Peter pulled out. Come started to leak out of Stiles as Peter helped him sit up. He felt himself pull a face.

“You didn’t use a condom.” Then he placed his fingers to the wet spot where Peter’s mouth had been during his climax. “And you bit me. Double unprotected werewolf sex.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll recover.”

“Nah, man, I doubt it.” Stiles said, shaking his head solemnly. “You’re gonna have to work really hard to make this up to me.”

“Oh?” Peter raised his eyebrows, looking amused.

“Oh, yeah...” Stiles reached forward and grabbed the man’s shirt, tugging him forward. “Let’s start with this.” Pulling Peter down to him, he kissed him deep, but briefly.

“Am I going to owe you every time we have sex?”

“Every time? We’re gonna do it again?” Stiles couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice. 

“Would you like to?”

“Boy, would I.” Stiles grinned.

“Good.” Peter nodded, kissing him again. Murmuring into the boy’s lips, he said, “Because I’d love to see you take my knot.”

Stiles pulled back abruptly. “Wait, what?” 

“Nothing,” Peter assured him with a smile, helping him off of the counter and into his jeans, “Next time.”

Those two words had a new and beautiful meaning to Stiles.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry for this guys. I've just been really stressed lately and writing bad smut helps me calm down. I just took my finals today and my grandparents are coming into town in less then a week and in a little over a week I'm graduating and in less than twenty days I'm going on a study abroad. So, unfortunately, I may be inflicting a few more of these onto the Internet. I hope this was okay.


End file.
